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Harley Whytten
"...and after that, it should be smooth sailing." Harley finishes, looking around the table at the rag-tag group of shifty misfits arranged before him. None of them looked like they belonged in the same room together much less on the same crew. Graunt, the dwarf with the mow-hawk to Harley's right, lets out a bellowing laugh, "We are all going to be FILTHY RICH! HA HA!" The rest soon join in, from the snickering of the scrawny hooded Lizardfolk in the corner (Swiv) to the snorting chortle of the Half-Elf woman sitting directly across from him (Tirina). ' Idiots.' he thought to himself as he watched their greed overcome them. 'How can none of you see the bigger picture here?' he wonders as he watches two of the degenerates closest to him throw up their tankards in a toast, spilling frothy ale all over the map it took him weeks to acquire. He sighs, not nearly audible over the roar of celebration around him, and wipes the ale from his map, stuffing it into his jacket. He turns to the window behind him and looks out over the docks, letting the night breeze sweep up from the sea and blow against his face. 'This is about more than money, pulling this off will cripple the infrastructure of the entire kingdom,' he slowly shakes his head. Just then a creaking noise comes from above him, imperceptible to the average ear, just outside the window. He turns and faces the table, seeing two shadows pass the windows on the left wall. The same on the right. The creaking sound comes again, closer and louder. He doesn't hesitate, pulling his bow from his back and drawing an arrow. Leaning his torso out the window he fires straight up into the air, catching a guard in the shoulder who was leaning over the edge of the roof in an attempt to see in the window. This sends him careening over the edge, screaming as he falls three stories. A flurry of arrows bust through the windows on either side of the room, catching all at the table in the crossfire. Harley takes two strides into the room and tackles Graunt to the ground just as an arrow cuts his mow-hawk in half. They crawl under the table as bodies hit the floor, making their way towards the door across from them. "What in thE ACTUAL HEL-" Graunt begins to yell before Harley covers his mouth. "Shut up you fool! Move to the door!" Harley rolls from the edge of the table to the side of the door frame, remaining crouched. Graunt attempts a similar maneuver, but rather than rolling over his head and back onto his feet, he lands flat on his back. Harley pulls him to the other side of the door frame and begins to notch an arrow. He looks over to Graunt, who has recomposed himself and has drawn his short sword. Before Harley can say anything Graunt opens the door screaming, with short sword in hand. Harley follows as quickly as he can, evenutally finding himself side by side with Graunt at the corner of a long staircase in front of them and a hallway to their right. Harley draws his bow in order to shoot the guard who has rounded the corner at the bottom of the staircase and has started to ascend, but before he can loose the arrow Graunt tumbles into him sending the arrow flying into the air and knocking the short bow from his hand. Harley turns to curse the clumsy nitwit only to see an arrow embedded perfectly in the center of his forehead. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the archer down the hall draw a second arrow. As the arrow flies through the air Harley props Graunt up and ducks behind the dwarf's torso, reaching toward his own boot. He finds the handle of his first throwing knife just as he hears the 'thwack' of an arrow embed itself into Graunt. Tossing him aside, Harley throws the blade through the air, which finds its home in the archer's neck. By this point the guard from the bottom of the staircase has made it to the top, and he tackles Harley to the ground, attempting to stab him with a short sword. Harley knocks the sword aside, and in one fluid motion draws the stiletto from his side sending it up through the guard's lower jaw and into his skull. He rolls the dead guard off of him just in time to see five more round the bottom of the stairs. He grabs his bow and takes off down the hallway, diving into the first doorway on his left. In which stood a woman, now screaming, attempting to cover her half dressed body. Without stopping he attempts to apologize to her, but the apology is cut short by him diving out her window into the awning of a street vendor's cart below, which he sails straight through, landing on the vendor himself. Without stopping to see if he is okay, Harley ducks into the crowd of people, pulling his hood over his head and slowing his pace to match the flow of the other pedestrians. By the time the guards reach the window, he is long gone.Category:Folks